A familiar debate in London

Iwoke up this morning to newspapers announcing that Boris Johnson has called British Prime Minister Theresa May’s current Brexit negotiations a fresh set of lies. May, on the other hand, has threatened to confront the “gang of five” Cabinet Brexiteers by saying she will not renegotiate the EU Withdrawal Agreement. This risks prompting a fresh set of ministerial resignations.

By the time this column appears in cold print, I will not be surprised if this war of words exacerbates; though I have serious doubts if it will force May to step down, as her critics are hoping. For the entire argument has now been rather adroitly shifted from the real one — Is Brexit good for England? — to an entirely new one: Has May negotiated the best possible deal for England? She heads to Brussels mid-week to agree on the basic points of a future trade deal with Europe (which could well prove to be as contentious) but, if all goes well, she will be back in Brussels on Sunday to sign off on it before it is put to a vote in Parliament next month.

Clearly I am in London. And, like all people I meet here, let’s start with discussing the weather. Fall continues even though it’s mid-November and winter ought to be here. The first Christmas tree is already up in the skating rink opposite Harrods (as always) and in the past three days I have been here, many more have sprung up as well. The streets are crowded by early Christmas shoppers and the street performers in Covent Garden are attracting huge crowds (and a bit of cash) though the sun is intermittent. There are no rains. The slight drizzle does not count.

Last night it was 6 degrees when I went out for dinner with a friend, historian and journalist Roderick Matthews whose family (from his mother’s side) has along connection with India from colonial times. His book ‘Jinnah Vs. Gandhi’ has run into many editions. I was, well, freezing by the time I reached. But for Londoners it appears winter is yet to come. It got lost somewhere on the way. I think I now know what Dick Whittington meant when he said the streets of London are paved with gold. He must have been talking about Fall because every street I am walking on is covered with golden autumn leaves. They look stunningly rich. When I run in the morning, the gold crunches under my cloth sneakers, sounding like a concerto from heaven. No, I don’t wear leather. Haven’t worn it for decades now.

The fun thing is that everyone talks politics here. From the Polish cab driver who drove us from the airport to the hotel to the tall Jamaican who brings in room service. They all have distinct views on Brexit and how it will go or not. Like the Indian elections, Brexit is the subject for everyone to argue on. Amartya Sen was wrong. The Argumentative Indian is actually nothing more than a darker (and more passionate version) of his British counterpart — the Argumentative English, who argue over almost the same kind of things. Politics. Football. Cricket.

Racism. And the Weather. Add #MeToo to that and it will sound more topical. Iget the same questions here that I face in India. Will Prime Minister Modi survive? I have the same answers. No, if you go by his government’s performance in office. Yes, if you go by his campaigning skills that still appeal to those who look at elections as yet another spectacle. Yes, also if you look at the Opposition’s ability to set aside their differences and form alliances that can replace the Modi government — if not the Modi mystique.

Luckily, they have anti-incumbency on their side and the fading power of a rhetoric based largely on lies. So, yes, the English are complaining about lies that their leaders speak. So are we. Lies have become an intrinsic part of the narrative of politics everywhere and they are so intricately woven in by spinmeisters that it is becoming increasingly tough to separate truth from post-truth, fact from fiction, real news from fake. Our options today are seldom an either/or as in KBC. We are dealing here with such a finely woven tapestry of truth and lies that even those who weave it will find it hard to tell the difference between the two. This is perhaps one reason why the spinmeisters themselves are joining politics today. It is easier to make money from politics than to take money from politicians to promote their lies.

In fact, that’s the problem with everything. Look at advertising. You can no longer tell the difference between truth and lies. They are stitched in so skilfuly that you often reject the truth and buy into the lies. Look at the #MeToo challenges. While I always stand on the side of the woman because she has been a victim historically, if you ask me about specific complaints I am not always convinced whom I should trust. Except, as I said, by what is politically right. And, as we all know, what is politically right is seldom the truth. In fact, the politically right is actually like the political right. It is often all wrong. And not the right position to take for any thinking person. Though they both lie, I would trust red more than saffron. But then, I can afford to take that position because I don’t hold a card for either.

The British and we have far too much in common than what Shashi Tharoor would concede. When I was younger, Nirad C Chaudhuri’s writing fascinated me, as indeed he did too. (I have retained some of his wonderful letters to me.) When he died at 102 in Oxford, I felt an interesting chapter of our history had ended. I lost a friend. But then, I am getting used to losing friends these days. Either to death or to political argument. It’s not uncommon at my age.

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